


Anything At All

by Lyricanna



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood Drinking, Calamity's Advent Zine, Gen, Horror, Mentioned Ferdinand von Aegir, Modern AU, Vampire AU, Vampire Violence, how Hubert became a vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25692454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyricanna/pseuds/Lyricanna
Summary: My piece for the free zine, Calamity's Advent.In a modern AU, the Vestra family has provided necessary protection and services to Dame Edelgard, an older vampire who needs agents in the human world.  This is the story of how Hubert became the last human Vestra and the first vampiric Vestra.  (Doubles as a prologue to Diabolical Streak)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Anything At All

It was Hubert's fifteenth birthday when he finally learned what his father had been preparing him for. His father was not a loving man, but he was diligent in his teachings, many of which Hubert found confusing at worst and fascinating at best. When he came home from school, he did his homework, ate dinner and then his lessons began. He had learned to pick locks at age eight, memorized many chemical mixtures and poisons by eleven, he could drive by thirteen (and was tall enough not to look suspicious doing so) and at fourteen he had come to peace with the fact that the death of one thing often meant the survival of another; death was a necessary thing.

His training had also been supplemented by Dame Edelgard, the woman whose manor house they lived in and looked after, the woman who sent Hubert's father on mysterious tasks and who had secret meetings late into the night. Edelgard taught him the use of many weapons, both ancient and modern; she taught him about blood letting and collecting, about milking snakes and tarantulas for their venom. She taught him pride and compassion, when to show mercy and when to be utterly unyielding. She told him stories of her past, of people she had known and regrets she carried, lessons learned and mistakes made. She taught him the value of loyalty and trust and she treated him like an adult. She also never aged.

Like all of his previous birthdays, Hubert's fifteenth was uneventful. His father didn't acknowledge it that morning and the only person who remembered during the school day was the ever-present and always irritating Ferdinand Von Aegir. Ferdinand had become a sort of friend to Hubert during the past year, which was something that Hubert knew he couldn't afford to have; he had been taught to distance himself from others, although he hadn't yet learned why. Ferdinand had offered to make a cake for Hubert or to take him to a movie, which Hubert had to respectfully and repeatedly decline. It was the sort of thing that had upset him as a small child, that he now simply accepted as the way things were. Hubert's father had told him over and over that a normal life was not for him, that the Von Vestra family had a higher purpose.

When it came time for his lessons that night, his father simply looked him over, scrutinizing something that Hubert could not place. His father was tall and angular, pale and stoic, his expression, as usual, not giving a single clue to his thoughts. Hubert simply sat up straighter and waited; he could be patient, when he needed to be. Eventually, his father pulled a small box from his jacket pocket and laid it on the table in front of Hubert. It was a slim black box, utterly nondescript and no longer than Hubert's hand.

Hubert cocked his head to one side and raised one of his thin eyebrows, questioning with a look rather than with words. His father nodded and made a gesture towards the box. Hubert had never received a birthday gift from his father; Dame Edelgard would buy him new clothes or expensive coffee, but his father never gave gifts. He opened the box; there was a small vial with an intricately worked metal lid and detailing. The vial contained a red liquid and was attached to a silver chain. There was also a ring, a heavy piece that was just as intricately worked as the vial. Curiously, Hubert prodded the side of the ring and it opened; a pillbox ring. He snapped the lid shut and placed the ring and necklace back into the box, suddenly uneasy.

“What is this about?” Hubert finally asked. He knew full well that it was rude but he didn't care. There was something _off_ here that he didn't like. A memory from when he was small and Dame Edelgard would tell him fairy tales came to mind suddenly; never trust a gift given from inhuman creatures because there will be thorns hidden inside. But he was fifteen now, much too old for fairy tales and his father was human after all. He pushed the memory away even though his instincts told him to be on guard.

“Your future. Our lady awaits.” With that, his father turned to walk towards the windowless rooms that Dame Edelgard kept deep within the manor. Hubert stood up and followed, his unease growing with every step.

They walked in silence through the long hallways, decorated with priceless paintings and interesting antiques that ranged from small sculptures to weaponry. His father turned and opened the basement door, which Hubert had been forbidden from entering until now. He had received the beating of his life when he had tried to pick the lock on that door when he was ten. He shuddered and felt the butterflies in his stomach petrify and fall like stones into the pit.

His father withdrew a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, maintaining his effortless silence as he descended into the palely lit lower levels of the house. Hubert followed quickly, glancing around as he went. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, he was startled to find that it simply didn't feel like a basement. It wasn't that it was finished, that it was tastefully decorated or that there was a lack of chill. What seem strange to him was that it felt like the upper levels of the manor had been built on top of this level, as if this level had once been the main level of the house itself. There were windows that were carefully sealed with tile or precious stone, the walls were wood panelled or wallpapered, and the ceiling was high. It was disorienting.

His father led him down a series of hallways to another staircase, a gently curving wooden staircase that seemed to belong in a grand manor two centuries before this one. This was far from what he had imagined lay under his home. His unease and curiosity continued to grow until they entered a room that was stranger than the rest.

This room had walls made of stone, an altar of sorts at one end and chains bolted into one of the walls. The floor was bare and unfinished, rough stone that had been stained dark by what Hubert immediately assumed was blood. The only comforting thing was that Edelgard was sitting in a chair near the altar, dressed in red, her brown hair falling over her shoulders like a silken sheet.

She rose gracefully and walked to the centre of the room. Hubert's father said nothing, merely turned and nudged his son towards their benefactress. Edelgard cocked her head to the side, awaiting his approach, so Hubert walked over, stopping to stand just in front of her. That she was so small always amazed him; her presence filled the room so easily. He could remember being a child looking up at her; he was so tall now that she barely stood as high as his chest.

“I would wish you a happy birthday, Hubert, but that will have to wait.” Her voice was confident, firm, but her smile was small and a little sad.

“As tradition dictates, it is time,” Hubert's father interjected.

“It is,” Edelgard replied. “But times are changing. Tradition is important but I feel that we need to adapt.”

“We've been over this,” came the retort. Hubert turned and looked at his father; he had never heard the man speak _like that_ to Dame Edelgard. A fierce protectiveness rose within him.

“Yet I have not made a decision.” Edelgard raised her chin, authority radiating off of her like a physical thing.

“Let him make his first.”

Edelgard pursed her lips, irritation marring her perfect porcelain features before nodding and returning her attention back to Hubert.

“You are about to learn something that is not to be shared under any circumstances without my express permission. Can I trust you with that?”

Hubert's brow furrowed in confusion. He would do anything for Dame Edelgard; he had reached that conclusion long ago. Yet this felt different, _heavy._

“Of course,” he replied, his throat suddenly dry, stopping the question he so desperately wanted to ask from falling from his lips.  _What is this about?_

“Bring him in,” Edelgard responded, not to Hubert but to his father, who he heard grunt and leave.

“I am afraid I have deceived you Hubert,” Edelgard continued as the door closed. “I am not what I appear.” She paused and glanced around, her eyes suddenly tired. “I could simply tell you, but you are a very logical young man. It will be easier to show you, but you have to promise not to interfere.”

“As you wish,” he replied promptly. His stomach twisted and he wanted to run. At Edelgard's gesture he merely walked towards the wall and stood in front of it, facing her.

His father brought in a bound man who seemed to be in a stupor. The man wouldn't have stood out in a crowd; he had brown hair, fair skin, of average height and a bit overweight. Edelgard approached the man and shooed Hubert's father away. She pulled back the man's head, baring his neck. She turned and looked Hubert in the eye to confirm that she had his undivided attention; she always did. Faster than he could follow, she revealed pointed fangs that he had never before noticed and sunk them into the neck of the captive.

Hubert watched in morbid, horrified fascination as the man went paler, his face assuming an expression of such joy that Hubert was almost jealous. The man seemed to grow thinner before him, his strength, his presence shrinking as his blood was drained from his body. Edelgard in turn because more flushed, her skin more pink, her eyes brighter as she fed. She unceremoniously dropped the man to the ground when she had finished and approached Hubert.

If there hadn't been a wall behind him, Hubert would have stepped back, away from the unsettling look in Edelgard's eyes, her pointed bloody teeth gleaming in the low light.

“You are the next Von Vestra,” she murmured. Her tone was dangerous and alluring, striking a chord deep within Hubert. “I need you as my protector, my agent in the world, my source when hunting is scarce, my protector and my lifeblood. Can you step into this role?”

Hubert dropped to his knees, no longer able to stand steady. Edelgard was a monster, a blood drinking killer and he had been raised to be her servant, her accomplice. His odd lessons in life philosophy, chemistry, poison, weapons training, the requirement that he stay away from other people, that he be different, every odd late night meeting, the occasional strange guests and strange absences of his father... all of it fell into place. This was to be his purpose, his life. He was to become everything awful and feared in service to his lady, who was all of those and worse. He lived at her mercy, he always had. As had so many Von Vestra's before him.

But she was kind to him, the only friend he had ever had, the source of all of the affection he had experienced in his life. Ferdinand's attempts at kindness rose to mind and he shoved them away. He could not afford a friend or romance or anything that even the strangest teenagers secretly hoped for. Nothing could taint his dedication to Edelgard. Hubert was nothing if not loyal and stubborn. He tried to open his mouth to speak and no words came out. He tried to nod his acquiescence; instead he found his hand unzipping his hoodie and moving the fabric aside. He tilted his neck, exposing his pale flesh to Edelgard in offering.

There was a sting, and then Hubert's world went white. All he could do was  _feel_ . He felt accepted, needed, contentment. He felt Edelgard adjust slightly and then there was only... bliss. He could die like this, on his knees, being drained of his life's blood, being cast adrift in a see of pure euphoria, and he would die happy,  _fulfilled._ His thoughts hazed over and suddenly there was no more need to think or feel, no reason to struggle for consciousness. His world was a white sea of bliss and he suddenly understood the meaning of the words “I'm waiting for something to die for.” This was it. And it was perfect.

\--

The truth of the night remained; Edelgard did want better for Hubert than his father had had. He continued with high school and Edelgard's evening lessons and errands. She sent him to college, with everything paid for and provided. He hated being away from her but sought comfort in her weekly calls and in the fact that his father could continue to take care of her. And so it was 5 years later when he received the call that made him regret leaving.

\--

Hubert turned away from Ferdinand and the red head's girlfriend, whose name he had purposely forgotten. The number was an unfamiliar one, but the area code was from home, so he stepped aside and answered.

“Hubert Von Vestra speaking, who is this?”

“There's an emergency. You need to come home.” Hubert's pulse quickened at the melodic, almost familiar voice. She was one of Edelgard's friends, one of the other immortal blood drinkers, if he recalled.

“What happened?” he asked tersely.

“We've been attacked. Edelgard has been taken.” His pulse quickened as all of the blood seemed to drain from his face.

“My father?” he asked, wondering why he wasn't the one making this call.

“He betrayed us. Come home now, Vestra.” Just like that the line went dead. He made some excuse to Ferdinand and his girlfriend, who was happy to have Ferdinand to herself. He barely heard what either of them said and gathered his things.

Hubert was in his car before he knew it. He didn't remember the walk through campus or the parking lot. He glanced at the clock: 7:00PM. It would be a three hour drive without traffic. He stopped long enough to buy a black coffee before heading onto the highway. He set the album he had just downloaded that morning to repeat; the dark cabaret music suited his mood.

Beyond that, he barely remembered the drive. He knew enough back roads to get around the worst of the traffic and soon he was driving up the winding driveway to the old manor house in the hills outside of Grondor town.

He approached the house cautiously, a hand on the long thin knife that he kept at his belt. His other hand was thumbing the pillbox ring anxiously; there was enough dried oleander inside to incapacitate most men.

The door was ajar; that was the first thing that he noticed. He could smell something burnt, but couldn't place what it was. It occurred to him that this could be a trap but he pushed the thought aside. Edelgard needed him, wherever she was. He would search the manor for any clue he could find, or the voice of the caller, if she was still here.

A sound to his left made him spin around. From behind the stairs a woman stepped out; she wore a black leather skirt, a red blouse and her brown hair tumbled down her back in elegant waves. She was pale as death, and the expression she wore was one of fury.

“Miss Arnault,” Hubert said in greeting, finally able to place the voice with the face. She had been one of Edelgard's night time visitors when he was younger.

“Took you long enough,” she huffed as she pushed her hair out of her eyes and came into the open. “I would say that you grew up nicely, but you're as bony and unfashionable as you were six years ago.”

Hubert bristled but remained focused. “That is hardly the problem here.”

“You're right,” she replied. Her shoulders slumped even as she brushed dirt off of her clothes. “I recognized the group that took Edie.” Hubert winced at the nickname; it was utterly disrespectful. “They've caused trouble before. I knew one or two of them were in town but I never expected this.”

“What can you tell me?”

“They call themselves hunters, but they have other names. The Agarthians, the Purification, the protectors of humanity or some other such hogwash. Normally they just leave behind a pile of ashes, but they insisted on taking Edie alive.”

“Can you track them?” Hubert bit back his panic and tried to show a calm face. He needed this vampire's help and respect to get Dame Edelgard back. He could not waver now.

“No. However, I managed to get some information out of your father. He's currently tied up in the sanctum, by the way. It might be a trap, but I don't care. We need to rescue her.”

“Lead the way.”

\--

The church that the hunters had retreated to was once associated with the Western Church of Fodlan, back when Fodlan had only one religion. Now it was supposed to stand empty, a monument to days gone by. So Hubert was quite chagrined to learn that the testament to oppression was being used to, in turn, hurt his benefactress and to hunt her kind. The only relief to be found was the fact that the area was being used as a stop over; it was not well defended and there were few ways in or out. Besides which, vampires were not actually weakened on sacred ground, not that this place had been consecrated in centuries. 

Hubert rummaged through his pockets, checking for his chemicals, his poisons and his means of distributing them. He had a gun and knife at his hip and a bloody rune drawn on the back of his hand. He was nervous, excited and angry. But his face showed nothing, as he had been taught for so many years. He waited patiently in the shadows for Dorothea's signal.

A haunting voice started to drift through the air, startling Hubert even though he had known what to expect. He tried not to focus on it, not to be drawn to it. Instead he focused on the hunters slowly emerging from the church, waiting for them to pass his way. As soon as the first one was in reach, he grabbed them by snaking one arm around their neck while covering their nose and mouth with a chloroform soaked rag with the other. His victim dropped to the ground and he moved onto the next. Three more followed suit and a fourth had the wherewithal to resist Dorothea's song long enough to draw a weapon. Hubert's knife slipped into their ribs with practised ease. It was his first real kill, but it was for Edelgard; that was justification enough.

He was soon inside the church, where two more hunters waited, guarding Edelgard as best they could with their hands over their ears. Hubert kept to the shadows, hoping that Dorothea's siren song would cover any noise he might make.

Hubert wasn't sure what alerted the first guard. He threw caution aside and drew his gun, and fired with the precision that came from handling the weapon for all of his life. A second shot followed and then he was at Edelgard's side, where he should have been all along.

As he gathered her into his arms, he finally was able to give her a good look over. Her brown hair was almost as white as her skin. Her unconscious face appeared to be stuck in a snarl. She looked thinner than ever and weighed next to nothing in his arms. He wasn't sure if she still lived; there was no breathing to listen for, no heartbeat or pulse to check. Terror overtook him as he stared at her. Was he too late?

Hubert took several shuddering breaths in an attempt to calm himself. The logical part of his mind was telling him that he was having a panic attack and that if he could breathe slowly and focus on one thing at a time, he would be okay. The rest of him was being overwhelmed with fear and guilt. He should have been there. He should have seen the betrayal coming. He should have... What did it matter?

He choked down the rising hysteria and took Edelgard outside, and walked down to the road, where Dorothea met them. He was about to put Edelgard in the car when she stirred in his arms. Relief flooded him as her eyes fluttered open. An instinctual terror quickly followed as he recognized madness and hunger in her gaze, her face suddenly turning monstrous, beast-like in a way he had never before seen. She moved faster than he could process and suddenly she was standing in front of him while he was struggling to get up. Then her claws were in his shoulders and her teeth were in his neck and terror turned to bliss. Then bliss turned to darkness.

\--

When Hubert awoke he was vaguely aware of the altar room; he was home. That awareness was soon flooded by an all consuming hunger. He was starving, he was  _dying_ . He needed nourishment. The hunger was so bad that it seemed to by a physical thing, moving in his body, in his blood, trying to move  _him_ . He had never wanted anything like this,  _needed_ anything like this. The feeling was too much while everything inside him screamed that there wasn't enough.

He sat up, trying to think, trying to stand; once he was upstairs he could make something... The thought cut off as a metallic scent, bittersweet and alluring filled his nose. He needed the source of the scent. He looked around for the source, cataloguing everything in the room and finding every object lacking. A movement caught the corner of his eye and he turned, faster than he should have been able to. Edelgard. She was safe, even though her hair was still white, her eyes steely and pale. He sniffed again and was suddenly across the room, towering above his father's bruised and bloodied body.

The disconnect between the hunger and the source of the alluring smell made him take pause; he shouldn't want to consume someone, shouldn't want... Blood. As the enormity of what had happened, of what had been done to him dawned, he backed away, hitting the far wall. Fear warred with hunger, two beasts rumbling through his mind and blood, trying to claim his will.

“I'm sorry Hubert,” Edelgard murmured. She stood in front of him now, gazing up at him and she was so small and delicate, so  _tired_ looking that he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was mesmerizing. She was safe.

“They drained me of my blood and used some spell and mix of chemicals to keep me from being able to heal,” she explained. Her voice was gentle, angry, sad, resigned and ashamed, the nuances assailing him all at once in a way he had never before noticed. “When I woke I was in a frenzy and I attacked the first human I could reach. I didn't mean for it to be you.”

“You killed me?” Hubert asked, his faith wavering along with his voice, hysteria mounting. The need to run, to be anywhere else warred with the hunger.  _We could be away from here_ , they whispered, coming to an agreement.  _We could hunt. We could truly feed._

“I remade you,” Edelgard responded. “I gave you the power to protect me, if you choose to accept it.”

The life he knew that he had taken earlier that night, the others that could die of too high a dose of the drugs he had administered hit him like a truck. He physically staggered and slid down the wall, landing on his knees. To protect Edelgard, killing was necessary. He could justify that. But to feed himself? To continue his own selfish existence, his own unworthiness by taking lives. That was somehow appalling to him. The horror of it should have turned his stomach, but like all of his internal organs, it didn't matter now.

Then again, Edelgard had suffered because of his selfishness. He should never have gone away for school, never applied at the same university as Ferdinand had in hopes of being able to occasionally bask in his light. To have one normal friendship. To pursue his own interests like a naive child, valuing only curiosity. What Edelgard was offering was atonement. He could still make recompense.

“What must I do?” he rasped, his voice caught in his throat.

“Kill the traitor. Have your first meal.” She gestured to his father, bound and injured, his mouth moving as if to speak. His tongue had been cut out, Hubert noted.

His father had never been kind to him. He had always treated Hubert like an extension of himself, an obligation to be fulfilled and then discarded once complete. He had instilled in his son a sense of loyalty and duty that he still clung to, in spite of everything. Hubert was a weapon, a tool, a protege to be shaped and nothing more. Yet he felt that he should feel something for the man that raised him. Pity perhaps or maybe disgust at what he was about to do?

But Hubert was so  _hungry_ , the blood was so fresh, so tempting. And he abhorred traitors. He was across the room before he had decided to move. The beast in his blood, the very one that would sustain his un-life surged to the surface. He had a bloody arm in his mouth and blood on his tongue. It was bitter sweet like dark chocolate; it warmed his body like the most potent wine. It wasn't the mindless bliss induced by the venom in Edelgard's fangs but it was fulfillment, every need being met and exceeded. He swallowed his father's death, the dark core of it thick like syrup and so, so satisfying.

Hubert dropped the corpse and looked to Edelgard; her approval warmed his entire being.

“We should head upstairs and consult with Dorothea,” Edelgard commanded. “There is much for you to learn.”

Hubert merely nodded and followed her into the dark hallways that led to the stairs. He left his doubt and horror in the basement, along with the tattered shreds of his humanity.


End file.
